


The Psychology of Mr. Wooster

by pandapony



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Experienced Bertie, First Time, Fluff, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandapony/pseuds/pandapony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeeves learns something unexpected about his employer, and subsequently, himself. Afterward, Jeeves must figure out if it was just a drunken encounter, or something deeper between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Psychology of Mr. Wooster

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally published at Indeed, Sir! on Livejournal but is being archived here to make it easier to find. Thanks to my original beta Innocentsmith.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters belong to P.G. Wodehouse, not me. No profit is made form this work. No offense is intended. Please do not read if you do not enjoy male/male romance.

Although it is unwise of me to share such incriminating memories in my personal memoir, I find myself inexplicably needing to record for posterity recent events concerning my relationship with my employer, Mr. Wooster.

On the evening in question, Mr. Wooster returned home very late from his club. I was just preparing to retire for the night, when I heard him fumbling with his key at the front door. I listened to him miss the keyhole for over a minute before I opened the door for him. He practically fell into the living room.

“What ho, Jeeves.”  His eyes were hooded, and I could immediately tell that he was what he would refer to as “tight.”

“Good evening, sir.” I helped him out of his overcoat and hat, and he stumbled to his armchair, collapsing into itas though his bones were constructed of India rubber.

“I’m severely under the surface, Jeeves. Gussie’s wedding celebration party was an absolute corker.” His hands bumbled as he attempted to retrieve a cigarette from his case. “Of course, in the history of the Drones, no party can match that of Catsmeat’s nuptial celebration, complete with ice sculpture hockey and a blasted round of pin the dart on the Wooster, but… what was I saying?”

“You were describing this evening’s festivities, sir.”

“Was I? A pretty rotten job I’m bound to make of it, Jeeves. Can’t tell a decent wheeze when the walls keep moving about like a roulette wheel.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Jeeves, feel sorry for Gussie. He’ll be in a blasted shape tomorrow. Emerald Stocker’s a fine lass, mind you, but she gets pipped when Gussie’s been in the society of a cold bottle. “He rubbed his temples. “I say, fancy serving me up one of your smashing cocktails?”

“Perhaps additional alcohol is unnecessary at this point, sir. Would you care for a restorative in its place?”

“Dash it, Jeeves, a b. and s. would go spiffingly with the spinning room right now, what?”

“Of course, sir.” I went to the drinks counter and mixed Mr. Wooster a brandy and soda, putting very little brandy in, as it was obviously uncalled for at this late juncture.

Mr. Wooster watched my movements carefully, his eyelids drooping. “It gives me the pip to see Finks and Nottles and Fink-Nottles stampeding to the sound of nuptial bells. Makes a chap feel lonesome, what?”

I reflected that such a statement could have several meanings. Perhaps Mr. Wooster was feeling abandoned, as all of his friends gradually entered into marital arrangements and he remained a bachelor. Or perhaps he sympathized with those who did not have the resources to escape such entanglements. 

“How do you mean, sir?” I asked. I handed him his drink.

“Ah, thank you Jeeves.” He sipped at it appreciatively. “I just mean that it’s a bit rummy, isn’t it? That they all are married, and I am left alone?”

“Sir, could you perhaps be considering the merits of a wife?”

Mr. Wooster snorted into his drink. “Oh, come off it, Jeeves, of course not. You know what I am.”

“Sir?”

He stared at me blurrily, with a small smirk on his face. “Don’t play innocent with me, Jeeves. You are the wisest person I know in this whole bally world, and no detail escapes your eagle eye. You must have figured it out by now.”

I moved closer, intrigued and yet also concerned that there may have been an aspect of my employer that I had overlooked. “Pardon me, sir, but I do not know to what you are making reference.”

Mr. Wooster put his glass down with unsteady hands. “Oh, honestly, Jeeves. ‘Resource and Tact,’ I know, but we have heard the chimes at midnight, what? Surely in the dark reaches of the whatsit night two men may stand in witness to one another’s… I say, do we have any maraschino cherries?”

I confess that my sudden curiosity prevented me from answering his cherry inquiry. Instead, I moved even closer. “I assure you, sir, if there is an aspect of your psychology that has yet to be ascertained, I am afraid I have missed it.”

“For God’ssake, Jeeves,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I fancy chaps! I am a… whatsit now? A hemo… a homo…”

“Homosexual, sir.” 

Mr. Wooster tried to snap his fingers together and failed. “Right ho! That’s the one, Jeeves!” He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes. “I just need to rest my eyes for a splash.”

I stared at my employer and schooled my expression. I did not want Mr. Wooster to know how absolutely shocked I was. It was not that Mr. Wooster had just admitted being a sexual deviant, but the fact that I had never been aware that disturbed me so greatly. Mr. Wooster is not a master of deception, and I always believed him to be easy to read. It was one of the traits I found most agreeable about my employer.

But to find out now that a large part of his personality had been carefully tucked away left me speechless. How could he have hid such a thing from me, his valet and constant companion? 

Mr. Wooster was mumbling to himself. “So tired… should go to bed. I don’t want to wake Jeeves…”

I coughed to alert him to my presence and then reached around his shoulders to help him stand.

“Shall I assist you to your bed, sir?” I inquired, already helping him stand.

Mr. Wooster reached his arms around me, squeezing me and letting his head loll on my shoulder. He took a deep breath at the crook of my neck. “Besides,” he murmured quietly, “I’m already in love with you, and not many girls would take that in stride. You’re perfect.”

I froze at this admission.

Mr. Wooster straightened, and gently urged me against the wall. There was an unusual look in his eyes, almost predatory. My shoulders bumped against the wall. 

“Let me assist you to bed, sir,” I said, feeling suddenly nervous.

Mr. Wooster kissed me. I was so surprised, I opened my mouth to protest, and he pressed his tongue inside. I stood, stunned, as he pushed against me, his tongue exploring, reaching into me. I could taste liquor and cigarettes, I could feel the soft heat of his mouth, and I was immediately overwhelmed.

At this juncture, I find it necessary to mention that, although I consider myself well-versed in a broad range of subjects, and talented in various environments, I had at this time limited knowledge in the ways of physical love. My own experiences had been few and far between, and with the exception of a few kisses and some discreet fondling, I was for all practical purposes a virgin. It was not an admission I would have made to anyone. However, I had always found greater interest in intellectual pursuits than in the intricate and often complicated emotions of courtship, and had eschewed all such personal entanglements for fear that such feelings would overwhelm me.

It was therefore quite a shock to feel the immediate surge of unexpected arousal that coursed through my body at my employer’s ardent advances.

He pressed his long body against mine and supported himself by placing his hands against the wall, on either side of my head. He thrust his groin into mine and I could feel his reciprocal hardness rub against my own. I groaned, and his kiss deepened. Without knowing what I was doing, my mind unhinged by my sudden, disturbing arousal, I kissed him back.

Mr. Wooster was an excellent kisser. I had kissed a few young ladies in my life, but it was nothing like this, the power of his hunger, the dominance of his embrace. It took a great deal of effort to clear my mind of the sudden onslaught of desire that threatened to undo me. However, my prudence re-surfaced and I forcefully pushed my employer away from my body.

“Sir! I must protest—“

Mr. Wooster dropped to his knees and began unbuttoning my trousers.

“No, sir!” I stated, but my voice shook and it carried none of my intended force. Mr. Wooster made quick work of my trousers and was unbuttoning my flies. 

“Let me give this to you, Jeeves. Please,” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, his eyes dilated, his cheeks flushed. “For everything you have done for me. Just this once.” He gently reached into my flies and pulled out my straining member. 

Every part of my rational mind was screaming at me to stop this. However, I had frozen against the wall with the first touch of his soft fingers against my shaft. I had never been held like this, never kissed like this. And while I am restrained by nature, and one who takes pride in distancing his own physical needs, I found myself unable to interrupt him. I was lost in the ecstasy of his touch, as he stroked me with his fingers, my member poised at his lips.

“Jeeves…” he whispered, voice breaking. I could feel the puff of his breath against my skin. He licked his lips, and then slowly pulled the tip of my shaft into his mouth.

I cried out in delight. Now I understood why so many men married such inappropriate spouses, or risked their positions for illicit fumblings in the dark. This was the most exquisite feeling I had ever experienced. I closed my eyes and moaned once more as Mr. Wooster pulled me further into him, his hot throat encasing me, his fingers gently cupping and caressing my scrotum as he worked me ever deeper into his body. His head began to bob up and down as he withdrew and returned, each time engulfing me further, until my pubic bone rubbed against his chin. 

Mr. Wooster’s eyes were closed in bliss, and he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. In that brief moment, I realized I had always found him attractive. It was why I went to such great lengths to ensure he was handsomely attired. I found him beautiful to look upon.

But never as attractive as he was now, on his knees before me.His tongue swirled along the tip of my shaft, and before I could restrain myself or even warn him, I felt my release build and then explode, a muffled cry of joy seeping from my lips as I pulsed into his mouth. Mr. Wooster still did not withdraw. He drank down my fluid and even gently licked the tip of my shaft afterwards, giving it one final kiss before he collapsed on the ground at my feet, panting heavily but smiling, his eyes closed.

“Lovely…” he whispered. He wrapped his arms around my lower legs and leaned his head against me.

I stood there, exposed and in shock, and waited for him to move. Mr. Wooster simply closed his eyes, smiling, and then drifted into sleep.

For the first time in my adult life, I was at a loss as to what to do next. I gingerly tucked myself back into my trousers and re-buttoned my trousers. I then knelt and touched my employer’s head fondly.

“Mr. Wooster? Sir?” I whispered.

“Hmm?” His eyes were still closed, and he still clung to me.

“Sir… I…” I swallowed. I had a sudden, burning desire to reciprocate his actions. But I was a mere novice. I had no clue as to how to proceed. 

“I need to go to bed,” Mr. Wooster mumbled sleepily.

I helped him stand, and he leaned against me. I led him to his bed, where he collapsed and promptly fell asleep. I watched his slumbering form for a moment longer, taking in his fine, willowy frame, the soft features of his face, the lovely curl in his golden brown hair. And then I quietly removed his shoes and socks, and tucked him under his sheets. 

As I pulled the blankets over him, I could not help but sneak a quick brush of my hand against his groin. He was softening, but I could still feel the residual hardness of his former arousal, and the thought of it sent another rush of blood between my legs. How had I never known that Mr. Wooster was an invert? And, more importantly, how had I never known of my own feelings towards him?

I left him to sleep off his drunkenness in his evening attire, and turned out the light. I found my own mind too engaged to slumber. I was anxious for what tomorrow would bring. Would he regret his disclosure of such a deep and terrible secret? Would he ask me to join him in such activities once more? All I knew for sure was that, if the situation arose again, I would not hesitate to follow where he led.

 

#

 

I checked in on Mr. Wooster at his usual rising hour of eleven a.m. but he was sound asleep. I continued to check in on him every fifteen minutes, until around 1 p.m. when I saw him shift and moan under his sheets.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I said, bringing in his breakfast tray. He blurrily wiped at his eyes and blinked up at me with a frown.

“What… what time is it, Jeeves?” His hands instinctively reached for the restorative.

“Just past one o’clock, sir.”

“Blast.” He drank down the restorative in one long gulp, and then grimaced. He placed the glass against the tray and winced at the noise. His long hands went to the sides of his head. “Blast it all. I’ve skidded into the ditch this time, Jeeves.” 

“I am sorry to hear that, sir. Would you like another preparation before your meal?”

He nodded weakly. I left his side and returned moments later with another, which he downed with similar expedition.

“Thanks, Jeeves. Ahh, I’m beginning to feel like less of a mollusk and more like a man again.” He blinked at me once more. “That was the last time I ever drink absinthe, Jeeves.”

I raised my eyebrow slightly. “Indeed, sir?”

“Yes indeed. Might as well swill turpentine. Mashed my brain to bits. I don’t care if Gussie gets married ten more times, never again will that foul liquid cross the Wooster lips.” Mr. Wooster shuddered. “I don’t even remember coming home last night. I’ve totally blanked out everything after Bingo’s toast.” He looked at me and frowned. “I didn’t make an ass of myself or pinch anything on my way home, did I?”

“Not that I am aware of sir.”

“Didn’t give anyone respectable the bird?”

“I highly doubt it, sir.”

“I didn’t say anything foolish to you, did I?”

He said it casually, but he would not look at me. I wondered momentarily if he did indeed recall his words, or his actions.

I confess that a part of me was hurt by the fact that our encounter had not left any lingering impression on his mind. However I knew it was for the best that it be forgotten, as the idea of working for a man I was romantically involved with sounded fraught with complications, to say nothing of illegality. 

“You were merely tired, sir, and needed assistance getting into bed.”

“Ah. Well, that’s good.” Mr. Wooster looked relieved. He dove into his eggs and bacon with a brighter attitude. “Dash it all if I can remember how the evening ended. I think there was something to do with throwing Gussie in the pool. I wouldn’t be surprised if the poor wretch drowned.”

“Due to the alcohol he imbibed, sir?” I inquired.

“No, due to all the rocks we stuffed in the blighter’s pockets. I do hope someone had the sense to fish him out before too long.”

 

#

 

Over the course of the following weeks, Mr. Wooster behaved as he always did towards me. And for a while, I began to fear that he did not love me as he had drunkenly proclaimed. Perhaps it was the effect of the of the drink that inspired those words.

Those words, however, had affected me deeply. I now watched Mr. Wooster from entirely new eyes. I saw how much I admired in his carefree, honest personality. He could be completely imbecilic, and yet absolutely sweet at the same moment. He was generous and forgiving, and always had the interests of others before his own.

But whether or not his affections towards me translated into love, I could not ascertain.

I myself went through an intense period of introspection as I considered my reaction to Mr. Wooster’s attentions. Having known other discreet inverts in my time, I found the concept of being one myself not as difficult to digest as might a man of more limited acquaintance. And thinking of Mr. Wooster in such terms lent greater insight into his past behavior, and the way he treated me and those closest to him. As time passed I came to terms with this revelation, although it was tempered with doubt over Mr. Wooster’s true sentiments towards me. I found myself anxious to resolve the issue.

Later that month Mr. Wooster returned home with a large smile and a dance in his step.

“Rally round, Jeeves. I bring tidings of great joy!” He handed me a brochure of a new cruise liner that was setting sail for the Caribbean.

“Fancy a spot of fishing for a few weeks? Give me a chance to escape Aunt Agatha’s latest wispy wife-to-be, and lay low on the decks of a luxurious liner.”

Mr. Wooster knew I had an affinity for fishing, and boats, and so I smiled slightly in response.

“The offer is most welcome, sir. I would be pleased to make the necessary arrangements.”

“Spiffing, Jeeves! Chop to it, and think about the packing while you’re at it. My only snag is that I want to flee England in less than a fortnight, if I’m to escape the nephew-crusher in time.”

As promised, prompt arrangements were made for our holiday, and soon I was enjoying the fresh breeze of the open Atlantic fishing off the stern of the large vessel in the early hours, and enjoying the hospitality of the cruise liner for the duration of the day. My duties in such circumstances diminished substantially, but I felt obligated to continue to serve my employer as per the requirements of my profession. I lingered in Mr. Wooster’s private suite after his morning departure and made sure all was in order for him by the time he returned from his afternoon stroll and drinks at the bar. I tended to his wardrobe and oversaw the daily arrival of his cocktail at the ritual hour.

Our voyage was very pleasant. By the end of the first week aboard, the boat docked in the Bahamas and many of the passengers ventured onto the island for the evening, myself and my employer included. The following night, the captain held a grand ball aboard the ship, and all of the upper class passengers, and a few guests from Nassau, congregated in the ship’s ballroom for the festivities.

During the formal event, I lingered outside the main ballroom, on hand in case Mr. Wooster called for me. I took great pride in my ability to appear before him the moment he needed me.

I decided to have a quiet cigarette, and lingered underneath the staircase to the upper decks, watching the festivities inside through a steamed porthole. To my surprise, I saw Mr. Wooster exit the ballroom with a very attractive young member of the ship’s crew.

I would have thought nothing amiss of the two of them leaving together, except for the fact that my employer had a suspicious look of anxiety and secrecy on his face. He scanned the surrounding crowd nervously. I withdrew further under the stairs so as not to alarm him. When he saw the coast was clear, he followed the purser down the deck stairs and made his way to the bow of the ship.

I felt an immediate surge of panic. The ship’s purser was a very handsome man, and there was something about Mr. Wooster’s furtive glances, and the way he placed his hand on the purser’s elbow, that alarmed me completely. Although I was not myself sure of Mr. Wooster’s feelings towards me, I was quite confident that he was indeed the invert he claimed to be. And it was also obvious, from our previous encounter, that Mr. Wooster was an experienced lover. The idea of him sneaking away to some quiet corner of the ship to woo one of the crew left me suddenly fuming in jealous rage. I had no idea I was possessive of his attentions until that very moment. 

I followed the two gentlemen from a cautious distance. I heard them whispering, but I could not make out what they said. As they stepped into a small office on the second deck, Mr. Wooster glanced around once more. Then, with a blush, he stepped inside.

As soon as the door was closed I approached. I lingered underneath the open port hole, listening in. I did not know entirely what I would do, but several plans were already forming in my mind. If I heard the noise of lovemaking, I would calmly walk in and interrupt the proceedings. 

As I formulated excuses for my sudden entry, I overheard Mr. Wooster’s voice, muffled and nervous.

“You mustn’t let Jeeves know about this, all right?”

“Jeeves?” the purser inquired.

“My manservant,” Mr. Wooster whispered. “The entire purpose of this trip was to give the old egg an chance to get in some fishing. If he knew that I was paying a fine every time he went to the rails with his fishing pole, he’d stop.”

There was a long pause. “But Mr. Wooster, the fine is quite substantial, and is per incident. It is against ship’s rules to fish from the boat deck.”

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m paying in advance. Just let the man fish, what? I’ll pay whatever it costs, so long as he doesn’t find out about it.”

I could hear the purser sigh. “Very well, Mr. Wooster. The captain has instructed me to take your fine as you previously arranged with him. It will be 200 pounds, I’m afraid.”

“Right ho!”

I could hear Mr. Wooster fumbling with his chequebook. “Not a word of this to Jeeves, understood?”

“My lips are sealed, sir.”

“Good man.”

I pulled back under the shadow of the overhang just in time. Mr. Wooster and the purser left promptly, a small smile of accomplishment on my employer’s face. I stood there in shock for a moment longer. I had often wondered why I was always the only one on board who enjoyed the abundant fishing during the voyage.

My throat tightened as I considered his excessive generosity and unselfishness, granting me such an expensive and heartfelt gift without any credit whatsoever.

I made my way back to Mr. Wooster’s suite, considering this latest revelation. Perhaps my employer’s claims of affection had not been mere inebriated ramblings. Perhaps he did truly love me. The thought gave me a surprising amount of joy.  I busied myself tidying his quarters, and decided that I would advance a more overt approach to proving whether or not Mr. Wooster’s affections for me were indeed of a romantic nature.

It was quite late by the time Mr. Wooster returned to his cabin. As he walked in, his eyes lit upon sighting me.

“Jeeves! You’re still awake! I told you to take off the rest of the night and enjoy yourself. What are you doing still mucking about in here?”

“I thought I would help you prepare for bed, sir.” I kept my tone low and neutral, but my heart beat rapidly at the words.

“Oh. Right ho. Carry on, then.”

I helped Mr. Wooster out of his evening coat and hat. As he struggled with his bow tie, I moved in behind him.

“If you would allow me, sir.” I quickly reached around and began untying his tie.

Mr. Wooster went completely still. He did not look at me, but a lovely rose tint colored his cheeks as I took my time, my fingers caressing his neck slowly as I worked the fabric loose.

“Er… thank you, Jeeves.” He had a noticeable blush, and would no longer make eye contact.

I reached down and began to unbutton his dress shirt. I often helped him dress, but I rarely took such liberties to help him remove his clothing. However the experience was having the desired effect. He looked uncomfortable and excited at the same time.

“I think I can handle the rest, Jeeves. Why don’t you go to bed?” he asked quietly. His voice was unsteady.

“I don’t mind helping you, sir.” I slowly peeled the shirt from his shoulders.

Mr. Wooster stood there, frozen and looking almost frightened. I worried momentarily that I had taken my advances too far. But then I noticed the faint outline of a bulge in his trousers, and felt an immediate coursing of desire flush my own body.

I gathered his pajama top and slipped this over his arms. As I pulled it across his chest, I allowed my fingers to accidentally stray against his skin. Mr. Wooster hissed as I touched him.

I dared a glance to his face. “Sir?”

He was looking at me, his eyes wide and dilated as they were the night he had pleasured me. His jaw pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. I buttoned his pajama top slowly.

“Please stop, Jeeves,” he whispered. He looked away.

I found myself unable to obey. I continued to button his shirt, enjoying the feel of hot skin beneath me, the tension of his muscles, the very smell of him.

Suddenly Mr. Wooster’s hand reached out and gripped my wrist. He looked up at me with his face flushed, strained with misery and arousal. “Jeeves.” His voice was low and gravelly. He clenched his jaw once more. “You have to stop touching me.” 

I raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”

An endearing blush blazed across my employer’s face. He wouldn’t look at me for a moment, and then forced himself to meet my eyes. His eyes were dark blue and wide. “You need to leave me alone. I’m getting… stirred up.” 

His words sent a tingle down my spine, pooling warmly in my groin.

“I am afraid I do not understand you, sir.” I continued to button his shirt. His blush had not faded. It spread down his neck, and I found myself wondering how far it went. He was absolutely beautiful.

I stepped closer, my heart hammering in my chest. I cursed my lack of experience in such matters, and prayed that he would take the next step. I looked into his eyes.

“I want to help you any way I can, sir,” I said quietly. I reached out and touched his shoulder. “However you desire, sir.”

Mr. Wooster stared at me intensely.

And then he reached to the back of my neck and pulled my lips to his, hard. He kissed me insistently, forcing me to open my mouth to his. I groaned and leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his slim torso.

Mr. Wooster was no longer soft and subtle. He spun us around and pushed me backwards into the narrow bed. I yielded readily, my mind racing at the thought of his lips on my member once more. That one experience had fuelled endless nights of fantasies, and now here he was once more, upon me, his tongue clashing against mine, his hands running along my body.

“Jeeves…” he whispered hoarsely. He began tearing at my tie.

“Let me help you with that, sir,” I said, although my own voice was now as shaky as his.

I sat up and quickly undid my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. He sat beside me, watching my every move, his lips red and swollen, his hair disheveled. He was so handsome I could not help but reach out and caress the side of his face, and he lunged at me once more, claiming me with his mouth as he pressed his body against mine.

There were very few areas where Mr. Wooster’s knowledge exceeded mine. But in this circumstance, I was grateful for Mr. Wooster’s prior experience in the ways of love. As soon as we were both fully undressed, he moved above me, kissing my torso, slowly lowering his head until he was sucking my nipples. I had never known that my body could feel so electrified. His kisses trailed down my stomach, and I arched into his mouth in anticipation as he continued lower.

As he reached my shaft, he looked up, a frown upon his face.

“Have we done this before, Jeeves?” he asked.

I swallowed. “I’m afraid so, sir. The night of Mr. Fink-Nottle’s wedding party, you returned home inebriated, and… pleasured me against the wall.”

“Ah. That’s why this looks so dashed familiar.” He smiled shyly. “You never said anything.”

“I was not sure if you regretted your actions, sir.”

“If I…? Jeeves, you chump!” He smiled. “Dash it all, I love you, you old bat. But what about you? Are you horrified?”

In response, I leaned forward and captured his mouth with my own. We kissed and rubbed against each other, each feeling building up to one great, overpowering sensation. He pulled his mouth from mine and then plunged downwards, pulling my shaft into his mouth.

I moaned and bucked into him. He steadied me with hands upon my hips, holding me captive to his delicious embrace. Every flick of his tongue and suck of his lips brought me the greatest joy I had ever experienced, and I feared I would faint from the heady sensation.

But before it was all over once more, I was desperate to feel what it was like to taste him, to hold him in my own mouth.

I gently pressed against his shoulders to lift him off of me. He looked up at me, eyes wild with desire.

“Please… sir… let me try,” I gasped.

Mr. Wooster smiled. It was the brightest, most cheery smile I had ever seen on his face, and my heart burst with sudden, absolute love. He promptly turned over, presenting me with his own straining member.

I was momentarily at a loss as to how to proceed. He was beautiful. The dark, musky smell of his arousal, the thickness and fullness of it fascinated me. I reached out and gently stroked it in my fingers. It felt similar to mine, only slightly longer, with golden-brown curls at the base instead of dark hair. I leaned forward, but I still felt nervous.

I swallowed. “Sir, I must admit, I have never done this before, and I—“

“—Pish, Jeeves. Not to worry. Do what you like. Or follow my lead, if you will.” Without another word, he leaned back down and engulfed my erection in his mouth.

I moaned. I pulled his flesh into my own mouth, and reciprocated his movements. The taste of his skin was salty and dark, it was warm and clean, and I loved it, the softness of his flesh, the hardness underneath. I pulled him even deeper as he did the same. We began a steady rhythm, matching thrust with thrust, until we were both moaning and pumping into each other, my hands cupping the soft, heavy heat of his scrotum, my face buried in his crotch, until I exploded, pulsing into him with all of my desire.

Only moments later, his own release followed. My mouth filled with a hot burst of salty liquid, and I swallowed it all, curious to taste what he himself was drinking.

I lay my head beside his leg and breathed heavily. After a moment, he lazily turned around and threw his arm over my chest, kissing me sweetly. His mouth tasted of my own release, and the thought of our two fluids mingling on his lips brought another surge of desire. I pressed my groin against his leg. 

Mr. Wooster laughed quietly. “Mm. Wait a moment, Jeeves. I need a few minutes of rest before we try that again.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Don’t.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Sir?”

He smiled at me. “Don’t call me sir. At least not while we’re snuggled up together like happy naked peas in a dashed cozy pod. Call me Bertie. Or darling. Or fathead. I don’t care. But ‘sir’ makes me feel… well, like a dirty old employer.” 

I ran my fingers through his hair. The feeling was delightful. How long had I desired to do this, to lay here with him in my arms, my fingers in his hair?

“Bertie,” I said quietly. For some reason, the sound of his name made him moan quietly and press closer.

“Dash it all, Jeeves, I’m absolutely daffy for you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I have gathered as much.”

He kissed my neck. The feeling was marvelous. We lay together for some time silently, simply stroking each other’s bodies. It grew cold, and I pulled the comforter over us.

“This bed is small,” he mumbled into my shoulder.

“Would you like me to retire to my own quarters?” I asked.

“What? No! Absolutely not.” He kissed me.

We continued to hold each other, until I saw he was growing drowsy. I forced myself upwards and fetched a warm washcloth from the bathroom to wash us both before returning to bed. I turned off the light and tried to sleep, but I was too excited, sleeping for the first time with a lover in my arms.

“Bertie?” I whispered into his hair.

“Hmph?” He mumbled into my collar bone. 

“May I beg your indulgence and ask a question?”

“Don’t feel like sleeping, what?”

“I fear Morpheus escapes me at present.”

He opened his eyes and yawned. “Well, I don’t know about Morpheus, but go ahead and ask away, old thing.”

“Have you always known you preferred men?”

If the question surprised him, he did not show it. He shrugged. “I don’t know, really. I mean, all the chaps were at it back at boarding school, weren’t they? No harm in a few games. But then when we all went to university, most of the lads found girls as objects of the divine pash. Only a few of us chappies were left wondering what all the fuss was about. I kissed a few girls, and as you know I’ve even fallen under the ether enough to contemplate matrimony, but sooner or later I realized that I had far more fun rolling about with the johnnies.”

He was silent for a long moment, and I thought he had fallen asleep. But then he spoke once more, his breath flirting against my shoulder. “What about you, Jeeves? I never noticed you donning lavender gloves.”

I spoke hesitantly. “Honestly, sir, I had never considered affections of such nature for any other person, male or female. I thought myself above such emotions.”

He looked up at me then. “Above? So you look down on this?” He poked my shoulder. “And you said ‘sir.’ I told you to stop that.”

“Forgive me. And I apologize, I do not mean I am above such feelings. I simply never appreciated them until now.”

“So when did you realize?”

I ran my fingers through his hair. “When you kissed me. I realized I had been in love with you all this time, and did not know it.”

Mr. Wooster laughed. “Well, I say! Something the inimitable Jeeves didn’t know! That will have to be remembered.” He sighed contentedly once more and settled down under the sheets.

“Good night Jeeves. I’m absolutely shattered. And I want to sleep and wake up and have that smashing moment when I open my eyes in the a.m. in your arms and realize that this isn’t just a dream, and that I can wake up from this point forward with you here beside me. Best bally present any man could ever have.”

I felt the same. But rather than say so, I simply pulled him closer, closed my eyes, and looked forward to experiencing the same moment. 


End file.
